Becoming a water rat

Swimming….I love it. Pools are OK.

I’m home when I’m swimming in natural water.

A toddler in the early 1960’s….the ocean….splashing in the waves at Rockaway Beach. We summered in a rented bungalow on Beach 98th St. half a block form the subway and half a block from Playland. I lived in paradise all summer long.

In 1968 during day trips to Rockaway Beach, Dad taught us to body surf. Body surfing….free….easy….fantastic.

My brother, his friends and I competed for longest rides. We traded war stories about scraped chests. In 1971 I learned to check that my bikini top was in the right place.

“Mom, can I go to the beach with my friends?” Mom sighed, “if your sister goes.” And later, “take your little sister.” Summers in junior high and high school meant 2 hour subway rides each way to Rockaway Beach.

While there are no waves in the Chesapeake Bay, my go to spot is 20 – 3o minute drive and I feel free….easy….fantastic.

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